My Little Pup

Chapter 7

I can't sleep. I've been lying here, staring at the ceiling for what has felt like hours. The room is nearly dark except for the little bit of light peaking through the blinds from the spotlights. The only sound is Negan's slow, rhythmic breathing. Occasionally, he will stir in his sleep, causing me to hold my breath as I wait to hear his breathing steady again as he drifts back to sleep. I want to reposition myself but the chain noisily clinks together every time that I move, and that last thing that I want to do is wake the sleeping giant that is a mere few feet away from me.

My mind wanders to my father and of how he got us both into this hopeless situation. I can't help but feel anger rising within me. He always taught me to face my problems head on, no matter the circumstances. He couldn't even follow his own advice…. Hell, all he could do was stand there like a coward when his 'problem' was starring him in the face. Now look what happened….

Angry tears flow down my cheeks, adding to my frustration. God dammit, I refuse to be like my father! His version of dealing with Negan may have been running, but it won't be mine. As much as it pains me to admit, the smartest and safest way to face my 'problem' is to submit to his demands…. Running away and fighting back did no good for my father and I. I only hope that being a good 'pup' will give me some extra time and leeway to come up with a plan to outsmart the bastard. The pocket knife hidden underneath my head will have to lay in wait for a little while longer, but the right moment will come.

I feel myself slowly beginning to nod off as my anger wears off, my exhaustion finally getting the best of me.

XXXXXX

"Wakie Wakie! Rise and fucking shine, pup!"

I'm startled awake as a pillow slams against my head.

My eyes shoot open and I see Negan looming over me, another pillow in his hand, ready to beam it at my head. The corner of his mouth rises into a grin as he cocks his arm back, preparing for another throw.

"I'm up, I'm up!" I throw my good arm up, anticipating another blow. Negan can't help but chuckle as he tosses the pillow back on the bed.

Negan heads over to his dresser, whistling to himself as he gathers his clothes. He starts to undress right in front of me. Embarrassed and partially disgusted, I turn my head.

"You can watch if you want," he calls with a chuckle. "No need to be shy pup."

I ignore him and his mocking laughter keeping my back to the bed. Thank god he didn't try and force me to watch.

After a few minutes, he was dressed back into his black pants and leather, his jacket unzipped revealing his white t-shirt.

A clock on his nightstand reads that it's 6 AM. My body confirms it, protesting the few hours of sleep.

I gingerly adjust myself up against his bed frame, the contusions on my ribs protesting the sudden change in positioning. I twist and readjust my weight multiple times until I finally find a comfortable position that lessens the amount of discomfort.

I rotate my neck, trying my best to relieve the tense muscles. This damn collar is doing a number on me. There is one hell of a kink in my neck from having to sleep with my head situated at an awkward angle due to the chain's positioning. My good arm rises off the bed as I reach to rub the tension out of my sore muscles.